


tiny fires everywhere

by Penstills



Series: running in my bloodstream [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Family Bonding, Gen, Light Angst, Mako-centric, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Pre-Season/Series 01, Sorry Not Sorry, azula is in this as an old lady, bolin is here to eat chocolate and be cute, cue dead mom from beetlejuice, first in a series, how are are all these characters related?, is this ooc? idk, kind of, me lips touching the mic: old woman azula for the win, proud mother of the mako and azula tag lmao, reread that question and cross out the first three words lmao, u tell me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26462386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penstills/pseuds/Penstills
Summary: As they walk out the office, Mako speaks. “We’re going to live with you, but you’re not our family.”Bolin hisses out, “Mako!”Zula merely inclines her head in understanding. “Of course. Not yet.”He scowls. “Don’t treat me like I’m dumb.”Her eyebrows raise. “I wasn’t.”
Relationships: Bolin & Mako (Avatar), Mako & Azula
Series: running in my bloodstream [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923835
Comments: 24
Kudos: 103





	tiny fires everywhere

**Author's Note:**

> wow wow wow not me creating an elaborately poorly thought out alternate universe which hinges entirely on the fact that i relate very heavily to both mako and bolin and also lowkey really liked azula when i watched avatar. so "azula is mako and bolin's maternal grandmother" is a go!!! i'm gonna warn u right now bolin gets like no air time here, he's here and i love him but like. this is mako centric for a reason. 
> 
> *possible trigger warning for subjects such as fire, burning, and death (not graphic, but it is described and there)
> 
> *this is very bare bones edited so. if anything is really janky just let me know. 
> 
> *in this azula is gradually abandoned by all her followers from that weird fucking ozai book club in the comics, so by 114 AG-ish she's like. "this is fine" while she has a whole 'oh fuck im like 30 now and have to find a normal life' moment. that will be expanded later on in the series. for now have old lady azula who has (gasp) descendants. also: 'zula' is a weak ass codename she came up with, because i thought it would be funny if she got away with a name so close to her original.
> 
> *enjoy!

**Spring of 161 AG**

Mako is 8 when he meets his grandmother. He’s standing in the front hall of the orphanage, Bolin’s chubby hand clutched in his own as he stares up at the old woman who is supposedly related to him. Mrs. Chan, the orphanage matron, is looking back and forth between the old woman and them, like she expects Mako to leap for joy, or for this wrinkled woman to burst into tears.

Neither party performs accordingly.

The temperature in the hall seems to rise a few degrees in these silent first moments between Mako and the yellow eyed old woman, until Mrs. Chan clears her throat, and breaks the atmosphere with all of the grace of an elephant-hippo in an antique shop. 

“Boys!” she booms, fixing expectant eyes on the two of them, making Bolin squirm from his place behind Mako, “This is your grandmother, Zula! Say ‘Hello’!” 

_Zula._ Mako turns the name over in his mind, feeling the sharp edges of it on his tongue. It’s undoubtedly Fire Nation, as is the woman in front of them. 

Her sharp eyes peer out from above a neatly wrinkled face and thin red lips. She has a tight bun of gray hair, like a knob on the top of her minute frame. She stands, with her head elevated, and her shoulders stiffly rolled back. Beneath her loose maroon yukata, Mako knows that her posture is perfect. Her small white hands bulge with blue veins, and there is a bright red purse resting against her hip. 

Maybe it’s her age, or her demeanor, but Mako finds that she looks nothing like his Mom. 

“Hello.” Mako says, and her eyes fall onto his own. He’s unable to look away, until the corners of the old woman’s lips push up in a false accumulation of a smile, and she takes more immediate notice of the small body halfway huddled behind him.

Zula doesn’t step forward, but she does incline her head towards the younger boy. “Bolin, is it?” she asks to the air above Bo’s head, which makes him let out a squeak. “Yes!” he yelps, and immediately buries his face further into the back of Mako’s scarf.

Mako is relieved to see something in Zula’s eyes shift. Her lips, previously only folded upwards, now seem to bend more genuinely in that direction. Anyone who doesn’t smile at Bolin shouldn’t be trusted, at least that’s what Dad used to say, before-

“I have cinnamon spice chocolate candies in my bag, if you’d like some.” 

Mako’s eyes widen. How does she know that Bolin loves those disgusting little balls of chocolate and spice? Despite being a firebender, Mako can’t stand the aridic taste of cinnamon in chocolate, or really, any cinnamon at all. Mako’s brows furrow in confusion, just as Bolin lets out a delighted cry.

“Yes, please!” he says, and quick as a flash, wrenches his hand from Mako’s own, and is at her side, pressing his chubby, reddened cheek against her dress. The older boy flushes; _Traitor._ They were supposed to be a united front against this undoubtedly terrible old woman with the snake eyes, and instead, here Bo was, taking her stupid candies! 

He crosses his arms. He juts his chin upwards. He wants this old lady, this Zula, to know that he can’t be so easily fooled. There must be something wrong with her, for his Mom to have never spoken of or mentioned her at all. 

Again, their stare off presumes, this time Zula smiling as she drops brightly wrapped candies into his brother’s little, waiting hands. Mrs. Chan claps her hands, smiling brightly as she turns to the other woman. “We must go to my office, to speak more about the boys going home with you! Sign paperwork, all that drab mish-mash, and then you can take ‘em home!” 

Mako feels sick at the thought of going anywhere with this strange old woman who so easily won over Bo, let alone to someplace that was supposed to be their new ‘home.’ Mako wants Mom and Dad and Lillie, their cat-raccoon, and he wants their apartment with it’s radio and bright green drapes Bolin chose out. That is his home. Not wherever this old woman is planning on taking them. 

“No.” Mako says, and Mrs. Chan’s face swivels towards him. Bolin has unwrapped his first piece of his candy, and is chewing at it. Zula’s eyes are resting on the younger boy, but flit out in interest as Mrs. Chan speaks.

“Did you say something, dear boy?”

Mako grunts. “My name’s Mako, not dear boy. And we’re not going ‘home’ with this weird old lady. We don’t know her.” 

All of Mrs. Chan’s neck visible above the drooping collar of her cheongsam begins to flush bright red. “I'm sure we've had a talk about our manners before, yes? We don’t say such unkind things about family, Mako.”

Mako huffs. “She’s not family.” 

Mrs. Chan lets out a noise like she’s been wounded. “She is, and I’m sure she wants an apology for your rude beha-”

A snort cuts off the matron. When Mako side eyes her, he sees that Zula has one of her hands held over her mouth, her eyes crinkled in amusement. At Mrs. Chan’s disbelieving look her way, she lifts it from her mouth. 

“He doesn’t have to apologize. Let Mako speak as he wishes.” She says, and Mako can hear the underlying note of amusement in her otherwise wire-thin voice. 

Mrs. Chan seems taken aback. Her mouth flaps open. Finally, she turns on her heel with an awkward smile, and leads them: Zula shifting forwards, Bolin still clutching onto her dress, and Mako glaring at their respective backs, into her office. 

* * *

It’s after they’ve settled into the ratty, low-backed chairs of the office, does Zula’s expression smooth over back into a calm mask of apathy. Bolin is sitting in her lap, much to Mako’s dismay, swinging his little legs to and fro. Mrs. Chan slides paper after paper over her desk, into Zula’s waiting hands. 

Mako fiddles with the edge of his scarf, listening intently to the stilted talk between the two women. 

Most of the really important information is in the documents Zula is signing with her expensive looking ballpoint pen, and the desk is too far away for Mako to peer over from his seat. He slumps in his chair ignoring the puppy-eyed look Bo is giving him. He’s a traitor and Mako will treat him as such.

He sulks. They were supposed to be a united front against whatever meddling adult was liable to try and permanently change their lifestyle, again. It had been 6 months since their parents' deaths, six months of miserable hours spent in the orphanage, and Mako had been nearing the end of his patience for the place when the news of their ‘Grandmother finally having been contacted’ was relayed to him. 

This was alarming for two reasons: firstly, he was unaware that he had any living family outside of his Dad’s relatives, who lived somewhere in Ba Sing Sae, and secondly, more recently, ever since the moment Zula stepped foot into the entrance hall of the orphanage, Mako was sure something was wrong with her. 

She was too keenly eyed for an old woman, and something about the suspended, dry air around her reminded Mako, uncomfortably, of the gravel of the alleyway, and the way his Mom’s necklace had shattered as it hit the ground. 

He starts from his thoughts as Zula stands, lifting Bolin in her arms with an ease that shouldn’t belong to an old woman, and tucks several delicate looking papers into her purse. 

“Let’s go and pack your belongings” she says to Mako, who furrows his eyebrows at her. She completely ignores Mrs. Chan’s well-wishes of a happy travel, focusing all of her attention on the boy before her. 

As they walk out the office, Mako speaks. “We’re going to live with you, but you’re not our family.” 

Bolin hisses out, “Mako!”

Zula merely inclines her head in understanding. “Of course. Not yet”

He scowls. “Don’t treat me like I’m dumb.”

One of her eyebrows raises. “I wasn’t.”

He doesn’t bother to dignify that with a response, leading her into the room he and Bolin share with 15 other boys. As he shovels clothing and toys into Bolin’s knapsack, he tries to ignore her eyes on the back of his head.

Bolin, inexplicably, feels the need to fill the silence. He speaks from around a mouthful of chocolate.“I’m 6, and Mako’s 8! And he’s a fire bender, are you a fire bender?”

The old woman nods. 

Bolin’s mouth puckers into an O, his fingers suddenly patting at the old woman’s hands. "Can you show me?" His voice is hushed, like he thinks that's going to prevent Mako from hearing him.

The older boy clenches his fists, breathing through his nose. Bo's just a little kid, he reminds himself, now tying off the end of his brother's luggage and starting on his own. 

Bolin was halfway asleep as they walked out of the restaurant all of those months ago, and Mako had pressed his brother's face into his chest in that flame licked alleyway, feeling Bolin's tiny puffs of air against his shirt. Even as Mako himself couldn't look away from the fire, from Mom and Dad, from their agonized rolling eyes, from the wild eyed mugger, from the beads of Mom's necklace beneath his feet, from their _pain._

How could Bolin even stand to look at fire? Even if he hadn't seen, even if he'd been asleep, how could Bolin even bear to ask for the thing that had killed their parents?

Mako hadn't firebended, seriously, in months. Even lighting the little candle for Bolin's bedside table made him sick. He refused to do the same for himself, so every night, Mako would lay in bed, reassured by Bolin's steady breathing that he was sleeping well, and stare up at the dark ceiling. 

Zula seems to pick up on Mako's distaste, and grasps Bolin's hands in her own. "Later" she says, which isn't a no, not exactly, but Bolin pouts all the same.

Mako feels a desperate need to get away from the subject of fire. "How did you know what Bo's favorite candy is?" He asks, just as he is in the middle of carefully placing one of his detective novels into his bag.

The old woman's eyebrows raise, amusedly. "I had a feeling you would ask that" she says, and pulls a thin stack of red-inked envelopes out of her bag. "Naoki wrote me about you two." 

Mako recognizes Naoki as being his Mom's name. But he doesn't like the light way Zula says her name, like she isn't dead. Like she's off being silly somewhere. Like Mom has written any letters recently, about all the fun things their family is doing. 

"Aren't you even sad? That your daughter's dead?" Mako asks, and he immediately knows he's made a mistake, as both Bolin and Zula react. Bolin's eyes go watery (and doesn't that make Mako feel like the scum of the earth?) as Zula's eyebrows draw together.

"I took no pleasure in Naoki's death." She says, and turns her head towards the smoggy window. "We'd not talked in many years, before she began to write me sometime last fall." Her lips purse together, and her next words sound painful, like she was pushing them out through her teeth.

"She was so forgiving. That was her greatest flaw. I don't...." her face rearranges into a cool mask. She stops speaking as her hands lace together. 

Bolin squints up at her from his place laying atop her lap. "Don't be sad Grandma!" he says, and Zula looks startled. He leans up, kisses his hand, and slams it, with all the might of a six year old earthbender, into the old woman's forehead. 

Now Mako just feels like a jerk. Bolin is giving her special hand kisses, while Mako is making this old lady (his Grandmother? that feels weird) reminisce about her bad relationship with his Mom. As Mako gets done buttoning his own bag shut, he comes to sit besides her.

"I'm sorry" he starts, and his voice sounds hollow. 

(Fire dances behind his eyelids so often it's frightening. Whenever he sleeps, he sees the alleyway, feels the hard press of the brick wall against his back, sees the outlines of his parents backs and the mugger silhouetted in candle light, is all too aware of the scarf around his neck, feels like it's choking him-)

"Don't apologize" Zula says, and quickly, like she's not sure of it herself, pulls him to her side. He rests his head against her arm, and tries to breath.

"There's something wrong with me" Mako blurts, and feels the old woman stiffen. 

"What makes you think that?" Zula asks, and her voice is oddly pitched. 

"Because I can't be nicer to people. And I know I should be, but I can't." 

"There's nothing wrong with you because you can't be nice to people."

"But, what if I'm mean to people forever?"

"Then you're mean to people forever." 

They're not the inspirational words most adults have told Mako, when he asks why he's angry all the time, or why making friends feels more like a chore than a reward. They're not the words of Mrs. Chan, who scolds him, who tells him he needs to make the best of his situation, that he needs to hold his tongue, or the metalbenders who had eyed him strangely when Mako told them he couldn't look away from his parents burning forms. 

They're not even really the words Mako wanted to hear from this old woman, whose eyes are too much like his own to be trusted. But all the same, something in his chest lightens. 

"I'm sorry for making you cry, Bo" he says, and feeling childish all the while, kisses his own hand, before gently stamping it onto his brother's forehead. Bolin looks appeased and delighted all at once, and offers him a piece of chocolate, which Mako takes, and slips into his pocket (never to be eaten.)

Then, the three of them sit. In a dingy orphanage in Republic City, two little boys and an old woman sit on a caving in bed with tired white sheets so old they've turned gray, and they, to an outsider looking in, could appear as a family in progress. 

* * *

**Fall of 160 AG**

_Dear Mama,_

_I know we haven't spoken since I married San, and I know you probably don't want to hear from me, but I missed you so much. Are you well? How's the house? Do you still have all your gray hairs (I'm joking!)? I had never written you about their births, as we were still not talking at the time, but I have two sons now. They are 8 and 5. I know it was wrong of me to not tell you, but I was scared of what you might say. No more! Even if we can't be Nao-Nao and Mama any longer, we can try and build for a future together..._

**Author's Note:**

> did you like it? did you hate it? let me know! is anything janky, or poorly worded? like everything i write this was born of passion so if u like it, let me know! 
> 
> nobody:
> 
> me frothing at the mouth: there are similarities between these two characters so let me relate them in some way in this essay i will-
> 
> *this is the first in a series, so any works after this will be following this little newfound family or going into the past, so we can glean more information about azula and how her life led to this point. (also missus naoki is getting air time. can u tell i love over reading mother characters who were killed off to give their sons personality points?) also my baby bolin is getting more air time at some point. i love him and i want to write him. 
> 
> *i don't know if i accidentally wrote azula out of character or if i was like "it's been 70 years...she's still gonna be like. intense but. sis is literally older than uncle iroh now" 
> 
> *i hoped you enjoyed it!


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